Binding Stories
by stelianqueen
Summary: In one day, it all went downhill. A soulless army appearing out of nowhere. Thirty Sitian and Ixian children gone missing. And standing here, on the tip of the tallest mountain- I know it's all my fault. My own fault. And yet I hadn't done anything.


Remember in my profile, how I said this was taken down for minor edits?

...

Yeah. Don't expect minor edits. I went WAY out with this. Seriously. It barely sounds like the original. :/

**Disclaimer: ***sigh* I do not own this fandom. Never have, never will, don't. Bleh.

* * *

I still remember it.

The rush. The thrill. The knowing. The adrenaline.

The knowing that, right in my hands, is someone's life. I have two choices: one- do what I know the looks being thrown at me suggest, or two- do what I want to do _so badly_, do what I know is _right _but no one else would agree on-

I wanted to. Oh, I wanted it so badly. I could feel it- my hands, closing in, crushing his windpipe. But when I tried-

When I _tried- _

My hands clamped up, like they wouldn't listen to me. Never.

And then I-

_"You can't, you know. You'll never be able to. It's hard. Before, during, and after. It isn't what you... what you think it would be like. It remains for years. Do you want that?"_

Yes, Viren. I do. I want it-

But I couldn't-

I _wouldn't- _

I couldn't kill.

And then I collapsed to the ground, my body heaving with sobs, and I just wanted them to _leave _me there, because I was worthless, I was nothing, I was nothingnothingnothingnothing-

I had to be dragged away.

So here I am now. The place that years ago I would call home. But it's unfamiliar now. I look at the floors that are a muted brown, the depressingly gray walls that are supposed to be green, all of it. It was all different. The same, but different.

Because the memories are too much, now. Looking at anything brings up even the slightest recollection of Viren, of Katia, of Gelsi-

It's too much, I think, as I slide to the floor for the millionth time this week. And I had made it so far, too. I reached the door, had my hand on the knob... but at that point, I lost it.

I lay on the ground, just like I had on that day, on my side, curled up slightly, arms covering my eyes. I don't want to see. I don't. I want to be dead. I still do.

_"Careful observation... very unstable... post traumatic stress... depressed... let him go, he'll come out of it... no sharp or dangerous objects... alone, leave him alone..." _I hear it again, the mutterings from when I was dragged in barely coherent. And with it my mother's sobs as she leaned into my father, because she didn't want to have to go through it again, one of her children dying.

Only on that first day did someone try to talk to me. Then they left, sensing it was hopeless. There was only one living person that I hoped to have seen, but too much political issues, I wasn't important enough.

And then she strolled in, glaring at me.

The last person I wanted to see. I would have yelled at her, at the very least, but I was still in the first stage then, lying the way I am now, blank. She slammed the tray of food down on the ground and stormed off. I didn't eat. I wouldn't eat.

So then she came back later, scowling. Simple magic played at my borders. Easy. I easily could have thrown it off. But I didn't. She forced me to eat. And then without a word she walked off. Came back the next day. Forced. Left. Came. Forced. Left. Came. Forced. Left. Came. Forced. Left. Came. Forced. Left. And so the days dragged on.

And then I started getting up. Sometimes I'd stare out the window, something that had been put in place in the time I'd been gone. The only one. This was probably supposed to be some main room, because if someone were to get their own room, it'd be Sage, or my parents. Not me. Never me. They were probably forced to give up the room.

And then Sage came in and threw a stack of books down. Still didn't say anything. But I knew what they were for and who they were from. The closest thing to a smile I'd had in recent times came on. Finally. A distraction. Reading took all of my focus, because I needed to make sure I was translating it. And it was draining. Good.

I had thought I was ready after that. Ready to see people. But I hadn't even stood up the first time when I sank back. Barely a few inches the second. A bit farther the third. I never got out. The door was the farthest I'd ever reached.

I know that I have to stop, now. Because this is my isolation, isn't it? The reason why I'm locked up like some wild animal? I'll show Sage that I'm sane, whenever I am. If. If I am.

All I can do is hope.

And I stopped hoping a long time ago.


End file.
